


Post divorce stages

by Alextwice18



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Happy Ending, How Do I Tag, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:26:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24499396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alextwice18/pseuds/Alextwice18
Summary: Basically, Andrés going through his usual stages after a divorce, and Martín having to deal with it.
Relationships: Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa & Palermo | Martín Berrote, Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Palermo | Martín Berrote
Comments: 6
Kudos: 99





	1. stage one: silence

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language, so please just overlook mistakes.

She broke up with him. He could hear it in the way Andrés slammed the door shut. Under normal circumstances he never did it, he even told Martín to never slam the doors because it would break them. 

Martín knew that it had to happen someday, even tho he wished his best friend didn't have to go through so much heartbreak. 

Sure, he hated the thought of Andrés laying on a beach with a woman in his arms, whilst Martín drank himself to sleep. Still, it was much harder seeing Andrés broken. 

He might be egocentric, but he only ever wanted for Andrés to be happy. And if he couldn't be happy with him then he should find his love somewhere else.

Martín heard glass breaking in the room next to his. Against his will, he stayed in his bedroom. The last time he tried calming Andrés down in this state it ended with a glass thrown at him, that only missed him by a few inches. Andrés needed time, and Martín was willing to give him everything he needed. 

After twenty minutes the noise, coming from André's bedroom stopped. Martín wanted desperately to go and check on him. To hug him and tell him that everything was alright, that it wasn't his fault she left him. However, he decided it was best to just wait for Andrés to search for his company. 

Martín couldn't understand why Andrés was so emotional over his last relationship. It had only taken him three weeks to marry her, and the relationship had only lasted about two months after the wedding. It was the shortest marriage Andrés had. 

Her name was Láura. She was beautiful, with long chocolate brown hair. Her brown eyes were equally as beautiful. She was clever, not as intelligent as Andrés or Martín, but she was at least able to keep track of what they were talking about most of the time. 

She was young and worked as a teacher. Andrés had met her in one of the many museums he loved so much. 

Martín hadn't liked her. She was rude and moody, and not nearly as elegant as Andrés. What he disliked the most about her was that she always wanted to do something. It was like she wasn't able to sit for five minutes. Martín had always asked himself how she had managed to not annoy Andrés in the first hour of meeting him.

Martín had gone to bed, trying to get at least a couple of hours of sleep and not think too much about the last months.

When Martín woke up the sun was shining golden into his room. He listened closely, but he couldn't make out any noises from the room next door. The monastery was silent. 

Martín prepared some breakfast. A slice of bread with honey, a pomegranate, and a black coffee. He searched for the notepad in one of the kitchen drawers. He wrote a little note for Andrés to tell him that he was sorry for what happened and that it was her loss. 

He put the tray in front of André's door and knocked twice before he left again. He tried to distract himself with some work until it was almost time for lunch. They normally didn't eat anything for lunch, but Martín wanted Andrés to eat. And knowing that Andrés was far too polite to decline anything Martín had made exclusively for him, he figured cooking was the best way to show he cared for Andrés. 

He wanted him to know that he was there for him. That he wouldn't leave him. 

That was exactly what he wrote on the note that was now laying next to the plate on the tray. 

After he cooked the rather easy dish and placed it in front of André's door he went back to the kitchen. He knew that he had to go shopping for food. He already knew it was going to be a mess. 

He knocked on André's door again, the third time only today. "Hey Andrés, I'm gonna go shopping. Do you need anything?" He said, standing close to the door. "No, I'm alright," Andrés answered, his voice only above a whisper. 

When Martín came back from the shopping he was exhausted. Not only did he spend half an hour searching for a really specific seasoning Andrés liked a lot and used on almost everything. He also had an argument with a staff member of whether or not it was intelligent to put the shelf with the alcohol right next to the fruit department. All in all the shopping trip had been a mess, just like he had expected. He hated going out without Andrés, he was his anchor in social situations. Always calm, collected, and very polite. 

After Martín put all the food away he went back to his room. 

"Oh fuck," Martín sighed when he saw the open closet where he usually kept some bottles of alcohol. They were gone now. 

The next four days were filled with Martín trying desperately to not set the kitchen on fire, and Andrés drinking himself into the knockout. 

Martín knew the phase of silence was finally over when he heard a knock on his door in the middle of the night.


	2. stage two: attention seeking

He opened his door. To every other person, Andrés would have looked perfectly fine. But Martíns eyes were almost perfect in spotting the slight differences. The dark eye bags indicated that Andrés hadn't slept nearly enough. His hair was messy, and there was a little red stain on his otherwise plain white shirt. 

Martín pulled him into a hug. Andrés was like a wounded animal, scared and wary. But after some seconds, the tension in André's body was gone, and he hung to Martín in an almost uncomfortable manner. The hug lasted some more moments until Martín pulled away only to cup his face with his hands. "I'm gonna get you to bed now," he whispered, being afraid that if he was any louder, Andrés would run away. 

It didn't take Martín long to get Andrés to lay down. He was far too tired to protest. "Stay with me," he said, barely loud enough for Martín to hear it. "Where else would I go," he stated, laying next to Andrés, after turning off the light. The older man immediately started clinging to him for dear life. "Promise me you won't leave. I'm so tired of everyone leaving me," he said, and Martín could hear the tears in his eyes. "I promise. Of course, I promise. I would never leave you," he answered. It was true, he couldn't leave him, even if he had wanted to. He felt like it would physically hurt him to leave the man. 

Andrés fell asleep whilst Martín only held him in his arm, he wanted to make sure that Andrés was fine, that he was feeling loved. As Martín knew that his best friend, the love of his life, needed the feeling of being loved like the air to breathe. 

When he was sure Andrés was sleeping, he stood up and made his way to André's bedroom. He opened the dark, wooden door. "Fuck," he swore as he saw the room. The air smelled like cigarettes, alcohol, and sweat. There were bottles scattered all over the room. The bed was messy, and one of the pillows was laying on the ground. 

Martín started cleaning the room. He opened the windows, collected up all the bottles, emptied the ashtray on the nightstand, and changed the covers of the bed. After he was done with everything the room looked normal again, presentable at least. 

He went back to his own room, where Andrés was still sleeping in his bed. The man looked exhausted, an expression of sadness could be identified even when he was asleep. Andrés was right. He felt everything so deeply, more so than other people, which was the reason why every divorce hit him just as badly as his first had. The usually so prideful and confident senior de Fonollosa was suddenly struck with self-doubt and abandonment issues. 

To every other person, it would have seemed impossible for someone like Andrés to have such issues, but to Martín, everything about Andrés was making complete sense. 

Martín headed to the kitchen, knowing that Andrés was going to wake up soon. He didn't sleep well in this state, so Martín decided to make breakfast for him.

A yawn escaped his mouth when he poured some coffee into a mug. It was unusual for him to be awake this early. It was only six in the morning, and normally he would have been asleep for, at least, three more hours. But for Andrés, he would do anything, so sleeping less, to nothing at all, seemed like very little. 

When he put the breakfast, that consisted of a cup of black coffee, crumbled eggs, and a slice of toast, on a tray, he made his way back to his bedroom. Perfect timing, because Andrés seemed to be waking up at that moment. "Morning," Martín greeted him, whilst putting the tray on the nightstand. "Morning," Andrés yawned, sitting up. He reached for Martín, pulling him down into an embrace. "Thank you," he whispered. "No problem," Martín answered, whilst placing a light kiss to André's temple. 

They spend the rest of the morning in bed, watching movies, cuddling under the covers. 

In the afternoon, they went into their private part of the garden. Martín was sitting in the grass, leaning against a tree, whilst Andrés was sitting on the bench. Martín was glancing over to Andrés since he made it impossible for him to concentrate on anything but him. He was bathing in the sunlight, a pen between his lips, concentrating on the piece of art he was currently working on. 

"Martín, come over for a second," Andrés said, looking at him with a little excitement in his eyes. "What do you think?" Andrés asked, proudly, his eyes shining, still bathing in the light of the sun, and Martín swore if he hadn't been in love with him already, he would've certainly fallen in love with him at that moment. The drawing showed Martín, leaning against the tree, trying to focus on his book. "It's beautiful. I didn't know you were drawing me," Martín said, smiling at the artist. He was honored, being turned into a piece of art by Andrés. "Well, that's the whole point of drawing people. Catching the beauty of them when they are themselves. When they think no one is looking at them," Andrés started to explain. 

When he closed his sketchbook, they both sat in the grass by the tree. Martín leaning against it, whilst Andrés laid down beside him, placing his head in Martín's lap. 

The rest of the afternoon was spent with Andrés dozing off, and Martín trying to read whilst stroking André's hair.

When the sun was starting to go down, and the sky was starting to turn dark, the monastery was filled with the sound of Italian love songs. Not the music Martín would've picked, but for now, it was Andrés' choice. Martín opened the first wine bottle this evening when Andrés came through the door. He was wearing a white button-up shirt and a beautiful grey three-piece suit. He grabbed the bottle from Martín's hand and poured himself a glass of the expensive wine. "I suppose you want one too," Andrés said. Martín was far too distracted by the man in front of him to answer. 

Andrés raised one eyebrow, obviously amused by the reaction he caused. The light giggle and obvious amusement brought Martín back to reality. He took the glass from Andrés' hand and downed the wine like it was water. Andrés reached for the glass again, putting it on the table. "Don't you think this is much more enjoyable whilst being sober?" he purred right into Martíns ear. That was it, that was the moment Martín realized he wouldn't survive this evening without getting drunk. 

Andrés was still impossibly close. Close enough for Martín to smell the expensive cologne, the wine on his lips, and Andrés' usual significant smell. It was like a bubble surrounding him. With all the will power that was still left, he gently pushed Andrés away, making his way to the table to pour himself another drink. When he turned around again, Andrés was swaying to the music, holding out a hand as an invitation, he sighed, taking the hand. Immediately the man pulled him close, his other hand taking its usual place on his waist. Due to muscle memory, Martíns hand placed itself on Andrés' shoulder.

They spent the night dancing and drinking. Martín also tried talking to Andrés about what had happened between him and Láura, but as soon as he started on the topic, Andrés only shook his head and pulled him into the next dance. 

They both slept in Martín's bed that night. Andrés clinging onto him and his head buried in Martín's neck. The ghost of Andrés' breath hovered over his skin, which made him shiver a little. 

The next weeks Martín spent his time with Andrés only. During the day they would spend time in the garden, going shopping, or working on heist plans. And the evenings were spent dancing and drinking, stumbling through the monastery, star gazing and eventually ending up in the same bed. 

Martín was sure this was heaven. The love of his life by his side, all the time. And he was sure there could be nothing better. Well, that was until the third stage started.


	3. stage three: possessiveness

The third stage started with Andrés bursting through the door on a Friday evening. He was wearing one of his best suits. His eyes sparkled with excitement and joy. "Martín, cariño, we're going out tonight," Andrés stated, and the tone of his voice didn't allow any contradiction, so Martín started getting dressed. 

When Martín wandered down the hallway, Andrés was already waiting at the door. "You're gorgeous, cariño," he said, placing a light kiss to his temple. Andrés opened the door, a cab was already parking in front of their house. 

"Where are we going?" Martín asked after Andrés didn't tell the driver an address. "It's a surprise," he answered smugly, laying one arm around Martín's shoulders. This evening was not going to end well, Martín thought to himself. This stage of Andrés was the toughest, he was possessive, and acted like they were a couple. Martín had to constantly remind himself that this was just another one of Andrés' post-divorce moods. 

The cab pulled up in front of an expensive-looking restaurant. Andrés got out of the car, holding out his arm for Martín to take it. They linked arms, and Andrés led him into the restaurant. Martín's breath stopped for a second when he saw the beautiful room. There were many tables, most of them occupied. It was dimly lit by a huge chandelier hanging from the high ceiling. Andrés had taken him out to fancy restaurants a lot in the past. But this was extraordinary. "De Fonollosa," Andrés told the guy at the entrance, who nodded, leading them to one of the few empty tables. Martín sat down, still a little taken aback. "Do you like it?" Andrés asked, smiling at him. "Like? I love it. I can't believe you've got us a reservation," he exclaimed in delight. "Yeah, well, you can get everything when you spend enough money," Andrés smiled smugly, whilst Martín was only shaking his head smiling at his friend. 

A waiter brought them the menu. He was a tall, dark-haired guy, probably Martíns age, maybe a little older. He smiled at him when he went back to the kitchen, promising to come back in a few minutes to get their order. Andrés examined the man for some moments, how he looked at Martín, and didn't look happy about it at all. 

So when the man came back, Andrés purposely took Martín's hand, lifting it to his lips and placing a light kiss onto his knuckles. "What do you want, mi amor," he asked, eyeing the waiter for a moment out of the corner of his eyes. Martín was taken aback for the second time this evening. "I'm gonna take the same as you," he stuttered a little, puzzled by Andrés' action. The man ordered expensive wine and a dish Martìn has never heard of, not letting go of his hand for a moment. 

When the waiter was gone again, Martín looked at Andrés' confused, a little reproachful even. "What was that?" he asked, as quiet as he could. "What?" Andrés asked, with his best innocent look. "You know what," Martín snapped back. "Calm down, Martín. I felt like it was needed," he answered, clearly not wanting to discuss the topic any longer. 

The rest of their dinner was uneventful, they talked about nothing and everything, and before he realized it, Martín was again seated next to Andrés in a cab. 

When they were inside the monastery again, they both went into their bedrooms, getting changed. After some minutes, when Martín had only changed his pants, Andrés was standing in his doorframe again. He made a pleased sound when he pulled his button-up shirt off his shoulders. Two arms grabbed his waist, and light kisses were planted over his neck. Martín sighed at the touch, oh, how he wished this was real. "Andrés, get to the bed," he said, and the arms around his waist were gone, even though he could still feel their ghost on his skin. 

When he woke up the next morning, the place next to him was empty. "Andrés?" he mumbled, sitting up and yawning. At that moment, Andrés came through the door with a tray in his hands. "Morning, mi amor," he said after putting the tray on the nightstand and planting a kiss to his forehead. 

The last time Martín had breakfast in bed was a long time ago when he was seriously sick, and Andrés had forbidden him to leave the bed unnecessarily. 

When they were done with having breakfast, which tasted amazing, Andrés stood up. "Better get dressed, corazón. I'm gonna take you to an art gallery today," he said and wandered out of his room. Martín shook his head, visiting an art gallery was something Andrés would do on dates often. 

Nonetheless, they now stood in front of a tall building. Andrés dressed in one of his more casual suits, and Martín in a black button-up shirt and black jeans.

The art gallery was modern, which surprised Martín due to Andrés rather outdated understanding of art and aesthetics. "I thought you'd like to see a more modern one since we've been to almost exclusively historical ones," Andrés explained, and sometimes Martìn asked himself if he was able to read his thoughts. "It's fantastic," he answered, encouraging Andrés, who smiled at him appreciatively.

During the tour, Andrés explained some of the paintings, telling him something about the artists as well. His hand was constantly around Martín's waist, pulling him to his side. And honestly, Martín was not able to concentrate the slightest. But who could blame him? The love of his life was dragging him by his waist, keeping him close and explaining passionately, flashing him a smile from time to time. 

"You know, none of these paintings are as beautiful as you," Andrés whispered, leaning in close to the man next to him. Martín snorted in amusement, turning to Andrés. "I know," he answered, imitating a woman throwing her hair back and placing a kiss to Andrés' cheek, who only started smiling smugly, still holding tight to Martìn's waist, glancing at his lips for a moment. That was it, that was his death, Martín thought, he would die in an art gallery because Andrés showed all indications for wanting to kiss him. He pulled away a little, a hopeless attempt at saving the last bit of his sanity.

In the evening they decided to go to one of the many clubs they had visited before, even though Andrés wasn't really into the nightlife. The music was loud, the air smelled like alcohol and sweat, and the room was full of people. It didn't take long for Andrés to find a beautiful young woman to dance with. Martín sighed, sitting down on one of the bar stools. This was it, the end of those perfect last weeks. The woman was beautiful, perfect prerequisite for being ex-wife number five. 

Whilst Martín was still focused on Andrés swaying on the dance floor, a man sat next to him. He was a little older than him, probably around Andrés' age, with stunning brown curls and chocolate brown eyes. "How about I buy you a drink?" he asked, leaning into Martín's personal space to make sure he would hear him over the loud music. Martín nodded, ordering one of the many cocktails. 

The man's name was Nicolás, he was a tailor, owning his own boutique. He was nice, very gentleman-like, polite, and very handsome. Totally Martín's type, but he could never have more with him than a one-night-stand since he was very much in love with Andrés, which didn't seem to change soon. 

Speaking of which, Andrés suddenly appeared at his side, without his accompaniment from the dancefloor, much to Martín's surprise. Andrés was immediately clinging to him, purposely ignoring Nicolás. He planted rough kisses to Martín's jaw, which caused Martín to shiver. That was unusual, and it made Martín's knees quiver if he wouldn't have sat, he would've probably lost his balance. "How about we get out of here, mi amor," Andrés said loud enough for Nicholás to hear it, who left without saying anything else, after receiving a death glare from the man who was still kissing his throat. 

It took all of Martín's will-power to pull away, but he managed it eventually, standing up and leaving. This had been the cruelest thing Andrés had done in a long time, not because he basically cock-blocked him, but because it was all an act to him. 

"Why?" Martín asked angrily when they were out of the club. "That man looked at you like you are a piece of meat. What else was I suppose to do?" Andrés snapped back, obviously not seeing anything wrong in what he did. "Andrés, he was only being nice," Martín argued, which was only met by a snort. "Martín, are you really this blind? He obviously tried to seduce you. His hand on your thigh, the way he looked at you, you must be blind to not see it," Andrés snapped. "And why is this suddenly your business?" Martín asked, not hiding the sarcastic undertone in his voice. "Because," he started but broke up again. "Because I'm afraid you'll leave," he continued, his voice suddenly a lot quieter than before. Martín could only snort in amusement. "Goddamnit Andrés, you can't possibly be that oblivious. Are you really that blind to your surroundings? I love you, I fucking love you. Do you really think I would leave you behind for some guy I meet in a club?" Martín couldn't take it anymore, so now it was finally out, and he regretted it immediately. He looked at the ground, he didn't want to see Andrés leave him behind. He was not ready for the cold rejection. 

Instead of rejecting him, Andrés came closer, cupping his face with his hands. "You could've told me, you know," he whispered, placing a gentle kiss to Martín's lips. Matín must've looked utterly confused because Andrés only whispered his confession of love, whilst stroking his cheek with his hand. 

A sudden realization hit Martín, and he returned the kiss desperately, hungrily. Andrés could feel the thumb stroking Martín's cheek getting wet, so he pulled away. "You okay?" he asked, worried. "More than okay," Martín answered, wiping away a tear and letting his head fall against Andrés' shoulder.

Apparently, they would continue sleeping in the same bed for some time now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the story. I would highly appreciate you leaving a comment and telling me your opinion.


End file.
